


Outside Influences

by keelywolfe



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Off-Screen Attempted Sexual assault, Pre-Papcest, Pre-Spicyhoney, Sexual Assault, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-05-20 19:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19383238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Leaving after a late night cooking lesson, Edge stumbled across something unexpected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, why does my writer’s brain do this to me.
> 
> I tagged this with a bunch of warnings but I’ll reiterate here. Off-screen attempted sexual assault is spoken about, nothing graphic is included in the story at all. There’s some blood and injury, not terribly so, but worth warning about. 
> 
> And hurt/comfort, awkward as it is.
> 
> I wrote this as a one-shot and normally I’d toss it with my collection of shorts but I wanted to be able to warn better and also leave myself open to continue it if I am ever so inspired.
> 
> If the warnings haven’t scared you off, come on in.

* * *

   
   
It was much later than Edge would have normally left after a cooking lesson with Blue, but his companion in the culinary arts had seemed a bit desolate.  
   
It went without saying that the issue was his brother’s absence. Rus hadn’t been home all night. Out at Muffet’s, Blue said, with prim yet indulgent disapproval. No doubt he would wander in well past midnight to sleep off his drunkenness and be late to his job the next morning, but if Blue was willing to tolerate his brother’s irresponsible nature, it wasn’t any of Edge’s concern.  
   
Still, staying a little longer to chat in the warmth of Blue’s well-maintained home was no hardship and only made it more difficult to head back out into the snow before his own brother worried. Red tolerated the cooking lessons with amusement and appreciation of new dishes, but there would certainly be more than a few pointed words if Red ever had to make the effort to fetch him.  
   
He started down the path toward the basement. Something odd caught his attention and Edge paused. Out in the deeper drifts, he could see a pattern of dark stains on the snow. It was none of his concern, but curiosity got the best of him. He waded through the drifts, pulling off a glove as he crouched and touched it lightly. His fingertips came away smeared a deep crimson, deeper than his own magic.  
   
Not the blood of a fleshy creature but marrow. There were passing few Monsters in any Universe it could belong to.  
   
Hackles raised, Edge followed the path of both footsteps and marrow. The crimson droplets were easier to follow, a staggered trail leading back to the Underswap brothers’ garage.  
   
The doorknob held smeary fingerprints, already dried dull against the shiny metal. Edge took a moment to brace himself. He could guess at what he was going to find within. Underfell was nothing if not a brutally effective teacher. 

But there was no question that he was better equipped to see it than Blue, and if there was nothing behind this door but a pile of dust, it would be better he saw it first.  
   
Carefully, Edge opened the door. Magic was thrumming in him, braced for anything, any possible attack. 

There was nothing. The overhead lights were on, glaring down on the room. Two steps in, Edge paused. Around the corner, almost hidden within the cage Blue had lovingly created to hold a captured Human, was a figure curled up in a corner. A familiar hoodie was pulled up over their head, but the smears of marrow liberally decorating it were certainly new.  
   
Edge let out a slow breath. If it were too bad, he would already be dust.  
   
Very slowly, Edge approached him. He kept his steps deliberate, trying to warn of his presence. There was no sign that he was successful, not a twitch or movement and a lack of dusting aside, it was worrying.  
   
“Rus?” Edge said, low.  
   
Despite his efforts, Rus startled violently. There was an aborted flicker of a shortcut, a blur of space/time that fizzled and left Rus where he was. To Edge’s jaundiced gaze, it seemed he didn’t have enough magic to complete it. His skull was mostly obscured in the depths of his hood, but Edge could see the dimness of his eye lights, flared wide in panic.  
   
“Shh, it’s only me,” Edge tried. “It’s all right, you’re safe.” Soothing was not a skill familiar to him, shaping the words felt awkward. He couldn’t say if it was what he said or if Rus simply recognized his voice, but blind panic faded. Instead, Rus cringed away from him, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them.  
   
“go away.” Muffled into the fabric.  
   
“You know that I can’t. What happened?” Edge asked, as gently as he could manage. 

The scenario was a familiar one if not in this place; a snarling, bloodied ally, still too agitated to accept assistance. The Dogs in Underfell often bore the brunt of XP hunters and the LV-maddened Monsters who hid in the depths of the Snowdin woods. It had taken a great deal of effort and patience to earn their trust, years, and now it was inviolate, as much as any trust in Underfell could be.

There wasn’t time for that now, so he would have to make do. Checking him was automatic; he would have done the same if he found anyone this way. Rus’s HP was down a few decimals, not dangerously so.  
   
Rus only cringed harder, trying to flinch from the inescapable force of the Check. He lifted his skull from his knees and Edge was not the expert at reading faces that his brother was, but that expression was one he knew.  
   
That was the face of someone who was about to run, and he would only hurt himself worse trying it.  
   
Very carefully, Edge moved so he was in front of the door. If nothing else, it would let him catch Rus before he could escape. "Let me help you."  
   
“don’ need help,” Slurred and stubborn, and Edge tamped down viciously on his inner irritation. Yes, Rus could be an annoyance, but he was hurt and scared, hardly in his right mind. It would be the height of cruelty to blame him for his reactions.  
   
“Your magic is low,” Edge told him. He kept his tone low, almost coaxing. “You need food.”  
   
To his surprise, panic lit again in his eye lights, and Rus shifted closer to the wall, cringing. “no, i can’t, my bro, he can’t, please!”  
   
Edge hesitated. Blue would likely never forgive him for keeping this from him. That was a unspoken rule between all the ‘verses; no matter the state of their relationship, interference with brothers was strictly verboten.

A flash of memory, a whimpering Dog, bloody scrapes across their muzzle, more smeared on their fur, and that fear was the same. 

That decided him.

“All right, easy,” Edge soothed. “We don’t need to see your brother. Come back to Underfell with me.”  
   
Rus only looked at him distrustfully, “your bro is there.”  
   
“Yes, but Red knows how to keep his mouth shut.”  
   
Every thought was plainly visible on Rus’s battered face. All his normal barriers were shattered, his lazy indifference stolen from him, and Edge could read every emotion; fear, worry, yearning.  
   
“You can trust me.” It was a calculated risk; Edge had no idea if Rus trusted him or not. Since they’d met there was little between them but insults and glares of distaste. But the unspoken answer was a relief. After a painfully long pause, Rus untangled himself from his curled-up ball. He flinched when Edge reached for him and he stopped, outstretched hands falling. 

Carefully, he asked, “Can I touch you?”  
   
A low, shaky exhale. “yeah, okay.”  
   
As gently as he could, Edge helped Rus to his feet. He let go when Rus tried to jerk free, instead keeping his hand positioned neutrally at Rus’s elbow, ready to catch him if his legs proved unstable. But Rus managed to limp outside. Even his sneakers were dappled with marrow, Edge saw, the trailing laces washed to faded pink by the snow.

The normally welcoming light from the windows seemed more like watchful eyes and Edge breathed easier when they made it to the side of the house, out of sight. 

It didn’t take long for Rus’s determination to lag, and soon enough he grudgingly allowing Edge to lead them to the back of the house, down the stairs to the machine.  
   
It was slow going; from the Swap ‘verse to Underfell, then up the stairs from their basement. Edge helped Rus patiently along, silently cataloguing what he could. Rus was limping and favoring his right side, cracked ribs, perhaps? He could see smears of marrow on his face, trailing from his nasal aperture. Most of the marrow on his clothes was probably from that, hardly life-threatening but he knew from experience that a direct blow could cause a nasty bleed. There was a fine collection of bruises, but the little he could see of Rus’s skull gave no indication of breaks. Anything else was hidden beneath his clothes and would take persuasion to reveal, Edge was certain.  
   
They shuffled along, snow dampening his boots. Rus’s sneakers were soggy with it. “didn’ know where to go,” Rus mumbled. “not home, not ‘nough juice to go anywh’ else.”  
   
“Who did this?" Edge asked, quietly. The question was stark in the cold night air.  
   
He didn’t expect an honest answer and didn’t get one. Rus only offered a rusty laugh that broke off on a groan. “yeah, no, don' think so. know where that goes. you don' like me, but that don’ mean yer gonna let anyone hurt me. even the worst of us is one of yers an’ you ain’t getting dust on yer hands on my account.”  
   
There didn’t seem to be much of an answer he could give to that. But he couldn’t help but wonder at the unfamiliar Hotland accent to his words, similar to Red. Underswap had a few secrets, it seemed, and hid them well.

They stopped just before the stairs on the porch, Rus looking at them with muddy dismay. Only three, but after the two sets in the basements, there was no doubt Rus was reaching his limits.  
   
“Let me help you,” Edge said quietly. Rus gave a jerky nod, choking off a whimper as Edge lifted him into his arms, carrying him only to the top step before setting him back down. He made sure Rus caught his balance before letting go. The door swung open before Edge could begin on the row of locks lining the door jamb.  
   
Red stood outlined in the light of the living room, his eye lights cutting through the darkness, “’bout time you got home, boss…what the fuck?!”  
   
“Move,” Edge said curtly. For a wonder, Red obeyed instantly, holding open the door to allow Edge to guide Rus inside. At the sofa, Rus suddenly resisted, almost panicked, until Edge allowed him to sit on the floor instead.  
   
Edge sat with him, flicking a glance at his brother, who vanished without a sound. He was back moments later, deftly carrying a bowl of hot water and several clean clothes.  
   
By the time Red returned, Rus was curled into himself again, his stained hands clenched fiercely in his lap.  
   
“Would you like to get cleaned up?” Edge asked. He waited patiently until Rus gave him a short nod, then lightly touched the back of Rus’s hand. Slowly, he unclenched it, allowing Edge to take it in both of his own. He studied that hand with narrowed sockets. It was filthy with marrow and one of his phalanges was out of joint, bent at an awkward angle.  
   
It was tempting to simply yank it into place without warning to keep Rus from tensing and making it worse, but that would likely break their fragile trust. Physical pain was probably better than emotional at this point.  
   
“I’m going to fix your finger,” Edge told him quietly. “I’ll try to make it quick.” 

As expected, his hand tensed in Edge’s grip, but surprisingly, it relaxed again swiftly. Rus gave a short nod and Edge did not allow himself to overthink it. He took hold of the bent digit and pulled hard.  
   
“ah!” Rus whimpered as the joint snapped back into place. But he didn’t flinch as Edge carefully bandaged it with the supplies his brother silently handed him.  
   
"I’m sorry,” Edge said quietly. He focused on wrapping that wounded digit. “I can't heal. This may be sore for a few days.”  
   
"don’ worry, i can,” Rus laughed, not the deep, sardonic laugh that Edge knew from him, but a thin, coughing rasp. “would've already healed all this if i hadn't run outta juice.”  
   
He seemed to realize his mistake instantly and looked away. Edge's jaw tightened. That meant he'd already healed a lot of damage; he'd been hurt even worse than this.  
   
Edge said nothing, only worked carefully to clean the dried marrow out of the joints of his hands. When the water was dirtied, Red took it away and brought back fresh. Three bowls of water later, and Rus was nodding off, jerking back awake every time his chin brushed his sternum as he leaned against the side of the sofa he’d refused to sit on. His sockets flickered open as Edge washed his face, taking care not to push back his hood. Another quick Check showed his HP was holding steady, so whatever was beneath it would have to wait until tomorrow.  
   
Next to him, Red was silent, but even that spoke volumes. He was breathing in short, quick puffs through his nasal cavity, the red of his eyes burning hot. Edge set a hand briefly on his back in silent warning. Red shook him off, glaring, and Edge met his anger impassively. Now was not the time.  
   
Red spun on his heel, stalking to the kitchen. By the time Edge was finished cleaning what he could, Red returned with a tray of steaming cups. Perfectly reasonable, Rus needed to consume something to help restore his magic, but Edge knew better than to trust his brother’s altruism.  
   
“here. brought ya some tea,” Red didn’t have to crouch to offer Rus a cup, “an’ there’s plenty of honey in it, so don’t say i never do anything for ya. it’ll help ya sleep.”  
   
“prolly don’t need help,” Rus slurred out. He pushed back his hood a little with one fumbling hand, revealing a streak of marrow Edge missed, and he took a cup in his newly cleaned hands, downing half of it in one swallow. He didn’t seem to notice that Red didn’t offer Edge a similar cup and Edge was forced to swallow back his irritation with his brother. 

But he didn’t stop Rus from finishing it. Help him sleep? Certainly, but Edge suspected the steeped leaves offered other properties with thick, sweet honey hiding the slightly bitter taste. If it was what he was thinking, it wouldn’t hurt him, but it would make Rus a touch more willing to answer a question or two, answers that they needed.  
   
Rus finished the cup with a sigh; already his eye lights were bleary, widening to nearly fill his sockets. Carefully, Edge took the cup from his lax fingers before it fell to the floor. 

“so, what happened?” Red asked, lightly. “ya can tell us, can’t ya?”

Rus stirred, blinking owlishly, and he looked from Edge to Red as if he wasn’t quite sure who they were. When he finally spoke, that Hotland accent overshadowed his normal lazy drawl completely.  
   
“nuthin’,” Rus mumbled. “some peoples jes don’ like the word no.”  
   
It was interesting, Edge thought distantly, how LV could make the soul feel both burning cold and blazing heat, his fury flicking erratically between the two. Rus’s sockets sank closed, and there was marrow on his face, on his clothes, and someone had done this to him, hurt him badly for daring to turn them away.

He only noticed his fingertips were digging through his sleeves and into his arms when he felt a droplet of his own marrow, smearing wetly.  
   
“yeah, that sounds like a problem, sure,” Red said easily. He gave Edge a warning look, one that clearly told him to keep his mouth shut, then asked, “anything else we need to take care of? maybe ya want a shower, yeah?”

His fury was blinding at the thought, redness tinting his vision but Rus shook his head, “nah, ain’t like that. didn’ get that far,” Rus’s sockets slit opened, pale eye lights peeking out, “know what yer thinking, shoulda done better. shoulda.” His voice broke a little but Rus pushed through it, “an’ couldna go to my bro, not like this. he knows everyone, they love ‘im.”  
   
“Your brother loves you,” Edge retorted, ignoring Red’s hiss, “Do you think your brother would want to associate with anyone who would treat you like this?”  
   
The laughter obviously pained Rus, coughed out as he shook his head, “he wouldna understan’. thinks alllll people are good. an he knows i sleep around.”  
   
The very idea that simply because Rus indulged in casual sex would mean his brother would —what? Think he deserved this treatment?— was such a foul antithesis to what Edge thought he knew of Underswap that he was momentarily speechless. That any ‘verse wouldn’t be appalled by such treatment; even in Underfell rapists were severely punished.

Finally, Edge ground out, “That doesn’t give anyone the right to force you and I’m sure he’d agree.”  
   
“yeah, sure,” Rus sighed out. Curled up, he seemed smaller, fragile. Another time, another place, Edge would have been irritated at his doubt in Blue. But his dull certainty that his brother wouldn’t understand was something else. 

The tea had done its job as well as it could and now the secondary effect was kicking in. Rus slumped in the corner formed by the wall and the sofa, snoring faintly.  
   
Crouched next to him, Edge sank back to sit on the floor, forcibly unclenching his hands that had unconsciously formed fists again. His sharpened fingertips had broken through the leather at the tips and through to his bony palms, tiny beads of redness welling.

Underswap was supposed to be safe, a flipped mirror to Underfell, a place where he did not need to spend any of his endless worrying on the occupants, on sweet, cheery Blue, delighting in his ‘training’…on Rus, who was always so antagonistic, ready to fire back insults and sarcasm at Edge despite the limitations of his HP. Lazy, perhaps, but comfortably confident in his ‘verse. 

A worthy opponent.

He shouldn’t be this, shouldn’t be frightened and fragile, too afraid to go to his own home, afraid of upsetting his brother. He shouldn’t.

But Rus was more correct than he knew; once they’d shared food and hearth together, he was theirs, theirs to protect, and the urge to shake Rus awake and demand the names of who had done this was incredible. The heat of his anger was tainted with the fierce urge to buckle a collar on Rus, warn anyone away from hurting him on penalty of his wrath, so he never again had to seem so fragile, so lost—

…but Edge would no sooner force a collar on him than he would anything else. 

“Sans,” Edge said, low. His brother stiffened, his eye lights darting around. Whatever his thoughts on this, they were surely no less than his own.  
   
But Red made a show of sighing, allowing a tangled mess of anger and frustration in that one breath. “yeah, boss, i know, gotta stay out of it—”  
   
As if Edge would ever believe that. “Find out whatever you can.”

Red stilled and the coldness in his wicked grin made Edge suppress a shiver. “you got it, bro.”

He was gone between one blink and the next, and when he returned, well, information was Red’s area. His was strategy, he had plans to make and at this moment, he wasn’t concerning himself with propriety. Collared or not, no one was hurting one of his without consequence.  
   
A soft whimper pulled him from darker thoughts. Rus’s face was twisted in his sleep; whatever dreams that came were haunting him. 

Edge pulled the quilt from the back of his sofa, a gift from Blue, and very carefully tucked it around Rus. He sat back down next to him, not so close that a flailing leg or fist might accidentally strike. Rus snugged into the blanket automatically, but those soft, fearful whimpers didn’t stop.  
   
“You’re all right, you’re safe,” Edge murmured to him. Useless words, lies, but by all the fallen angels, Edge was going to make them true. 

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Rus slept most of the night, but his rest was not a peaceful one. If it weren’t for Red’s ‘tea’, he likely would have woken several times. As it was, Edge could only watch over him, murmuring soothing words whenever he twitched or whimpered.

The artificial daylight was streaming through the barred windows by the time Rus actually woke. He blinked heavily, pale eye lights going from an unfocused blur to narrow pinpricks as he looked around wildly. Not even awake enough yet to realize _why_ he was afraid, but he was nonetheless.

“You’re safe,” Edge said, softly. Rus jerked, that searching gaze falling on him and finally there was recognition.

“oh,” Rus said hoarsely. The quilt slipped down as he shifted to scrub his hands over his weary face. It exposed his dirty sweatshirt, dried marrow already flaking from the bright fabric.

He kept a hand over his eyes, his shoulders quivering and for a moment, Edge thought he was crying. But the sound that escaped him was closer to a laugh, disjointed as it was. “okay, so, i have no fucking idea what to say to you. thanks, i guess? is thank you what you say right now?”

“If you want.”

Rus let his hands drop, raising his head to look directly at Edge. He frowned, his gaze searching, ”you look kinda shitty, did you sleep at all?”

“Of course not.” Edge tried not to sound insulted; Underswap was different, in ways Edge was still learning, and Rus might understand promises but honor fell along different lines. “I told you I’d keep you safe.”

“so what, you stayed up to guard me?” It wasn’t disbelief, but Edge didn’t know how to gauge that tone of voice. 

It was the truth. He had stayed up, spent the night watching over him. Trying to protect him from the world outside and also the one haunting his dreams, as much as he could. But that didn’t seem to be what Rus wanted to hear.

Perhaps a different tact would be best. 

“Are you hungry?” It was a rhetorical question; after draining his magic last night, Rus would be starving, his soul crying out for replenishment.

So it was something of a surprise for Rus to shake his head. “no. no, you guys have a hard enough time with supplies without having to scrounge something for me.”

And there it was; something that could have been an insult if Edge chose to take it as one. Dismissing his ability to provide was enough to justify drawing blood in his world. 

Instead, Edge took a ginger puppy cake out of his inventory and silently offered it over. It was unquestionably from Underswap, pressed onto him by Blue the last time he was there. Edge had taken it from Blue without hesitation and he wondered absently at his own capriciousness, that he’d allow one brother to scold him into taking treats and take insult at a word from the other.

Rus only paused a moment before he took it, devouring it in quick, awkward bites. It would only be a small help, better than nothing. A drink would be appropriate to offer, plain tea this time without his brother’s additions, and it wouldn’t give Edge answers but it would help Rus, that and plenty of sweet honey.

Before he could offer, Rus sat up straight with a different panic, one not borne of fear.

“shit, what time is it?” He started patting at his pockets, increasingly frantic, pausing only when Edge held up his phone.

“Your brother tried to call you,” Edge said and when that bright panic flared again, he added hastily, “I sent a text from your phone saying you’ll be home later. I thought perhaps you didn’t want him coming here.”

Rus nodded and took his phone, sighing wearily. “yeah, that would…that would be bad.” 

To Edge’s growing frustration, he didn’t expand on that and the urge to press was strong, to demand answers. As he was now, still panicky and senses clouded, Rus might well break down and explain….or he might lock down tighter and never say another word on it. Either way, whatever fragile trust was between them would very likely be broken. It was only luck that his brother’s ‘tea’ hadn’t done it already. It couldn’t be risked.

But a pang of his own dread rose when Rus started trying to climb to his feet, fumbling to pull the tangle of the quilt away. “thanks for helping and all but i should get home.”

“You don’t have to leave if you’d rather not.” 

Rus paused, blinking at him. His sockets were rounded, owlishly confused, “what?” 

“You don’t have to leave,” Edge repeated. “so long as you let your brother know you’re safe, you don’t have to go. Stay, get cleaned up, let your magic recover more. Can you even shortcut right now?”

That was an obvious sore point, one that Edge hadn’t a qualm about pressing, and the way Rus looked away gave the answer. The few times Red had drained enough magic to keep him from teleporting were memorable, his viciously angry frustration at any vulnerability. Edge could only imagine how Rus felt in the same position after what happened.

He couldn’t heal, he couldn’t teleport, his HP provided no protection and Blue was not only ignorant of the problem, he was no fighter. Every instinct within Edge screamed for Rus to stay here and if it took pressing on a few internal bruises to keep him, Edge would do what was necessary.

But the first one he’d prodded seemed to be enough. Rus kept his gaze aimed at the floor, blinking too much as he whispered, “why are you helping me?”

There was no answer Edge could give that Rus would want to hear, and so he countered, “Why do you think I wouldn’t?”

But Rus only shook his head. He didn’t seem angry, only confused and lost. “doubt you want me here sleeping on your,” his eye lights flicked to the sofa then slid away. “taking up space.”

“You can go upstairs and sleep in my bed.”

To his surprise, Rus froze at that, the joints in his hands creaking as they gripped each other. He swallowed nervously. “you want me to—i mean—“

It was so nonsensical to Edge that for a moment, he couldn’t understand. When the answer clicked, he was forced to turn away lest Rus think the anger was for him. It was, a little. He couldn’t possibly think that Edge would…he swallowed back a hot denial, forced as much gentleness as he could to say, “Just to sleep. I’ll stay down here and you can nap. If you want. It’s your choice.”

A choice Edge would try very hard to respect and if that meant he ended up spending a few hours lingering outside the Swap home to keep watch, then sentry duty it was.

Some of that blind fear faded and Rus nodded jerkily. “okay. okay, yeah, i can…i can do that. that would be…good. yeah.”

It was difficult to watch Rus struggle to his feet, making his way unsteadily to the stairs. He hesitated at the foot and Edge wondered if he would ask for help going up.

“maybe come up stairs for a few minutes?” Rus muttered. “i just—“

He trailed away and the shame that crossed his face made anger stir again, at whoever did this, for breaking that easy confidence Edge had seen in Rus from the beginning. They’d beaten more than his body; they’d left bruises on his soul, and there was no ready way to heal those.

Or perhaps not so terribly bruised. It was an easy guess that Rus wanted him close, to watch over him until he fell asleep. Edge could only wondered at the courage it must have taken for him to ask. “Of course.”

He followed Rus up, keeping a careful two steps down while Rus struggled his way up. They were at the landing, Rus leaning panting against the railing, when a thought occurred, “Did you want to shower first?”

Rus plucked at the front of his sweatshirt distastefully and grimaced. “yeah, you probably don’t want me in your sheets like this.”

Not at all the point, but Edge directed him down the hallway. “I’ll bring you something to wear. I can wash your clothes while you’re resting.”

Rus didn’t move. He stood there in his stained clothes that hid stars-knew what injuries. The façade he was clinging to was crumbling, leaving behind emotions but no answers. 

“why are you helping me?” Rus asked again, with shaky determination. “what do you want.”

“I don’t want anything.” 

“yeah. look, i just like to know the cost in advance, okay? make sure it’s not more than i can afford.”

Another conundrum, Rus’s distrust coupled with the memory of Blue’s constant generosity.

“Papyrus,” Edge said, deliberately. His name, their name, a reminder of the somewhat shared life between them. “I don’t want anything.”

That doubt didn’t disappear, but Rus seemed to accept it, for now. He shuffled to the bathroom and Edge went to his bedroom for clothes.

Folded neatly in a drawer he found a soft pair of flannel pajamas, a Gyftmas present from one of the other ‘verses. He took a moment to fold back the blanket invitingly on the rigidly made bed. Sleep that wasn’t drug-induced would do wonders for both healing and replacing Rus’s magic.

The water was running as Edge went to the bathroom door. He knocked anyway and called, “I’m setting the clothes inside.”

No response. 

Cautiously, Edge opened the door. Through the thin curtain he could see the shadow of Rus sitting in the tub, water pouring down on him. The sound of falling water drowned out sound, but it couldn’t disguise the way his shoulders were shaking, the way he was curled into himself, arms wrapped behind his skull as he rocked back and forth.

Behind that curtain he was bare in more ways than one, and with one flick Edge would be able to see what Rus was hiding. He’d be able to see everything.

Edge tightened his jaw and silently set the pajamas on the floor, closing the door behind him.

“boss?”

Too quickly to be seen, Red dodged the wave of bones Edge hurled at the sound of his voice. The second wave was aborted, dissolving to dust and only then did Red step back out. He raised a brow bone at the uneven scatter embedded into the wall behind him.

“easy, bro,” Red said, mildly disapproving. He poked one of the jagged bones with an idle finger, wincing at the burn of the intent. He stuck the injured digit into his mouth and mumbled around it, “tense much?”

“What did you find out?” Edge demanded. If Rus couldn’t give him answers, he expected better from Red.

But his brother looked grim. “got a little info, but it ain’t nothing you’re gonna like. russy has himself a bit of a reputation, kinda a ‘for a good time call’ sorta guy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Edge said impatiently. Certainly nothing that would excuse that beating and whatever else Rus was hiding from them.

Red raised both hands defensively. “didn’t say there was, boss. anyway, that was easy gossip, but the timing wasn’t so good to get much on anything else last night. i’m gonna hit it tonight, see what else i can scrounge.” He ignored the rude sound Edge made and went on,“they didn’t jump him outside, i don’t think, not enough of a mess anywhere in town. he came out in a shortcut, i found that spot. must’ve gone through blind, he was pretty damn far from his house. looks like he healed up right there before he started for home. 

Red licked his teeth, considering, uncaring as the sharp edges nicked his tongue. Casually, he added, “if it was me, the only way i’d heal up before shortcutting someplace safe was if i was in a bad way.”

“I know,” Edge said, low. The door opened behind him and Edge turned towards it, disgruntled that he hadn’t noticed the water turning off. 

Rus looked out through the cracked open door, his dirty clothes in his arms. The pajamas only increased that aura of vulnerability, too big and too small at the same time.

He was slimmer than Edge, but taller, and there was a couple inches too much ankle showing. But they were still too wide for his frame and the pajamas hung down enough to expose his collarbone. From the way Rus tugged at the neckline, it wasn’t something he appreciated.

“heya, honey bun,” Red said easily, and if there was a certain gentleness to it, only Edge would have noticed. Nothing else, no comment that Rus was looking better or asking him what the fuck happened. Red batted the ball of conversation firmly into Rus’s court, for better or worse.

Rus stepped out further out into the hall, “i wasn’t sure what to do with…” he trailed off, holding up his dirty clothes.

“give ‘em here, i can toss ‘em in the wash.” Red held out his hands and those words might well have caused the first skeleton aneurysm ever if Edge didn’t know full well that his brother intended to inspect them thoroughly first.

Rus reached out and dropped them into Red’s arms. The action drew up his already too-short sleeve even further and the discoloration on the exposed bone drew Edge’s gaze, a darkened bruise circling his forearm.

The growl that rose in his throat was difficult to choke back, feebly disguised as a cough. Rus awkwardly tugged the sleeve back down, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Let’s get you into bed,” Edge said gruffly. Rus nodded and went into the darkened bedroom without another word.

The sheets were a little threadbare but they were clean. Rus eased onto the mattress, sighing gratefully. In short order the blankets were pulled loose from the corners, wrapping him thoroughly and Edge didn’t feel so much as a prick of irritation at the mess.

Not even when Rus whispered, “you don’t have to stay.”

“Do you want me to?” Edge settled to sit on the floor by the bed. The room was utilitarian. In one corner was a single bookshelf crammed with water-wrinkled books that had been read dozens of times, and couple that were set reverently on their own shelf, borrowed ones to be returned. Daylight crept in through the single, barred window past the thin curtain, falling across the darkened screen of the jerry-rigged computer 

A bare whisper from behind him. “yes.”

“Then I’m staying.”

The only sound Rus made was a watery little sigh. The bed creaked, the blankets rustled, and then only soft, even breathing.

Edge’s sockets felt too dry, weariness nagging. He ignored it; he’d gone far longer without sleep and for much worse reasons.

He did take out his phone, texting his brother to go to the sentry checkpoints before he took a nap to check the traps. A confirmation came quickly, along with a pun that Edge ignored.

He sat in the semi-dark room and when the first whimper came, he was there to murmur, “You’re safe, Rus. I’m here, you’re safe.”

It was probably his imagination that Rus settled quicker at those words than he had the night before. Or perhaps without the drug to cloud his senses, he was better able to hear.

Either way, Rus did settle again, breathing soft and easy. Edge turned enough to look at him, asleep in his bed, wrapped tightly in a swathe of blankets. Sleeping willingly, allowing this vulnerability when he was already in a fragile state.

Trusting him.

Edge swallowed against a sudden thickening in his throat and turned back towards the door to keep watch.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a reminder, this story is about attempted rape and recovery, and there will be some discussion surrounding that.

* * *

Edge was still awake some hours later when he heard his brother return in a rattle of door locks. Unlike his counterparts, Red was less prone to shortcutting his way around the Underground. Neither of them could afford for Red to ever be low on magic if it could be helped and one opportunity to teleport could mean the difference between dusting and more lives than their own.

A glance at the bed confirmed that Rus was sleeping peacefully enough now. Too pale yet, the normally warm tint his magic brought to his bones absent. What little was visible, anyway. He was wrapped up in the blankets, smothered into them with only his skull showing. Those unsettling whimpers had eased some time ago and he was safer in Edge’s bedroom than nearly any other place in Underfell. With that in mind, Edge rose silently to his feet, prowling downstairs to demand more answers from his brother. 

Red was still at the door, for once kicking off his snowy shoes on the mat, meltwater spreading in a darkening puddle around them.

“hey, boss,” Red grumbled. He stripped off his damp jacket and beneath Edge’s watchful gaze, reluctantly hung it in the closet. “shitty fucking weather, storm’s blowin’ up. that’ll keep everyone inside, anyway, less trouble for a while.”

“What did you find?”

“eh, everythin’ll hold ‘till the storm’s over. the traps looked good, dogs are safe at their stations and—”

Edge interrupted him before he could build up too much steam. “If you’re going to insist upon this dance every time I ask a question about him, I am quickly going to lose patience and I _will_ take it out on you.”

It was not an idle threat and his brother knew it well. The rest of the Underground did not know the real level of Red’s strength, concealed beneath the reality of his lazier nature. It was a charade they’d been playing together for years and those who discovered the truth were not ones destined to survive long after. But for him to best Edge in a fight required effort that Red rarely liked to put forth. That Red still hesitated was telling, weighing consequences as he scratched the back of skull, "bro, i don't know-"

"Tell me," Edge ground out. Frustrating as it was for Rus to be keeping secrets, that at least was understandable. Red kept enough from him, far too much. He wasn’t going to tolerate it this time.

Finally, Red stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged, "lot more marrow on the inside of his sweatshirt than the outside. he definitely had some broken bones before he healed up, and—"

"Brother."

Red blew out an irritated breath, and his teeth scraped as he ground them together. How rare was it these days to witness Red trying feebly to protect _him_. 

His words were short, clipped and sullen, "can't say whether the dried jizz inside his shorts was his or not. don't matter though, pretty sure his dick wasn't in agreement with his head about what happened." He waited, watching critically until Edge gave a curt nod, gesturing impatiently for him to continue. "found some short brown hairs on his clothes, too, and unless rus is sprouting pubes that he hasn’t mentioned, they gotta belong to another monster."

“That narrows things down.”

“a little, yeah. gotta say, i’m glad it wasn’t scales, only a few monsters that could be, but—” The red glare of his brother’s eye lights strayed, widening as they flicked higher and Edge turned to see Rus standing unsteadily in the open doorway of his bedroom, looking down at them. Whatever vulnerability had been leaking through the cracks earlier was shut down, tightened into coldness.

“if you’re done talking about me, can i come down?” Rus asked. The acid in his tone was belied by the way he wrapped his arms around himself, cupped his elbows in his hands as he hunched in. 

There was no telling how much he'd overheard. From that closed off irritation, Edge was guessing it was enough.

Well, fuck.

"heya, honey bun," Red said easily. He picked at his teeth with a sharp fingertip, idly inspecting the findings before wiping it on his shorts. "your clothes ain't done yet."

"that's fine, i was gonna burn them, anyway.”

"uh huh," Red let out a deliberate yawn, showing sharp teeth as he stretched with exaggerated enthusiasm, “welp, i could use some sleep. catch ya later.”

"you couldn't catch a cold." Dismissively. Normally a mistake for Red, he was never one to ignore. But his brother only slanted a glance his way and Edge could read that darkly amused look easily. This was his problem to deal with and Red vanished with a pop of teleportation, a rare indulgence so that he wouldn’t have to walk past Rus, who was making his way downstairs with stumbling, furious determination.

Wonderful. 

“if you can loan me a pair of boots, i’ll head home,” Rus said shortly. Never mind that he was only wearing a pair of Edge’s pajamas, that even with boots, it was cold enough right now that simply walking from the house to the machine in the basement might sicken him in the condition he was in. He was already shaking a little with the effort of getting down the stairs. 

When Edge Checked him, Rus winced, barely keeping from cringing away from the unwanted prickle of it washing over him. 

“Your magic is still very low.” It was tempting to lay a hand on Rus’s shoulder, try to guide him to the sofa to sit down so he could be wrapped up again in blankets. But there was something about the sofa that Rus shied away from it the night before, and the only other option would be to push him to the floor. Neither choice seemed promising. Edge was forced to leave him standing with his toes curling away from the chilly carpet and swaying as though a stiff breeze would send him to his knees. 

“yeah, well, thanks for the reminder, but i can take care of myself.” It was incongruous, Rus standing there shivering, drained pale of magic, and ready to demand he be allowed to stagger home through a storm. Even his eye lights flickered, almost sputtering. Rest was good and well but he needed to _eat_. “appearances might beg to differ, but i actually don’t need a fucking babysitter.” 

Edge only raise a brow bone at him, holding his gaze steadily. Rus looked away first, drawing in a quick breath, releasing it. What he attempted next was something like reluctant gratitude, "look, i appreciate everything, i do. but i don't need you two going around behind by back, fucking things up."

Sweat was starting to sheen his skull and Rus swayed on his feet, but he jerked back when Edge reached for him. Edge muttered a foul word beneath his breath and stalked away, hoping that Rus at least had enough sense not to try his luck at leaving barefoot. In his state, he probably wouldn’t be able to get through the door locks. He hadn’t moved by the time Edge returned, only stared in confusion as Edge set a chair from the kitchen table next to him.

“Sit,” Edge commanded. For a moment, he thought Rus wouldn’t. That he’d rather fall to the floor, wallowing in surly defiance. Finally, he all but flung himself into the chair, drawing his knees up to rest his feet on the seat. The quilt was still on the floor by the sofa and Edge snatched it up, shaking it briskly before draping it around Rus’s shoulders. 

“I might have agreed you didn’t need a babysitter, except you’re acting childish, so I might well be wrong,” Edge said sharply. He could see the anger simmering in those flickering eye lights and it wasn’t necessarily all for him. Rus was probably angry at the world right now. Best to attempt something a little gentler. “If you feel ready to go home, I won’t stop you.”

“won’t stop me?” Rus laughed and it was bitter. “wow, you’ve really gone all in on this mighty protector bullshit.”

“I won’t stop you,” Edge repeated doggedly. “And you haven’t asked for my opinion, but I think you should stay. You’re obviously still weak and you need more to eat than one cookie.” More to the point, Edge wanted him to stay. It didn’t sit well with him for Rus to go back to Underswap without enough magic to defend himself, especially not knowing who had hurt him. Not yet.

It was somehow the wrong thing to say, as it so often was with Rus. The same kind of slipup that ended in arguments on movie nights, with the others watching with varying degrees of annoyance and sardonic amusement as he and Rus squabbled. 

All of Rus’s emotions were crammed into ball of sullen resentment and anger, with nowhere to aim it but at Edge. “i got my ass handed to me, okay, i was kinda fucked up. but i’m not weak!” 

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Edge kept his voice calm. His fault, he reminded himself. Allowing Rus to overhear his need-to-know had broken that fragile trust, barely built before toppling. And there was most likely plenty going on in Rus’s skull that had nothing to do with Edge, leaving him touchy as hell, ready to lash out at anything that pricked. “And needing to be safe to recover doesn’t make you weak. Otherwise every Monster in my Snowdin would qualify.”

“i’m not from your snowdin, and mine’s a little less dust hungry.” The sneer against Underfell was a familiar one. The uncertain tremor beneath it was not.

“No, you’re not,” Edge said, softly, “But I still want you to be safe.”

That contemptuous veneer was not as steady as Rus might prefer, faltering into confusion, fear, before shifting into something different, his sockets hooded as he looked Edge up and down. That gaze was predatory in a way that was strangely discomfiting. Edge knew the hungry gaze of Monsters who succumbed to their LV; Rus’s was too similar by far. 

"yeah? that's it, huh, you want me to be _safe_ , and that’s it? safe for you?” His mouth curved into a smirk, the bright flicker of his tongue visible behind his teeth. “don’t worry, sweetheart, i’m as safe as you’re gonna get." 

“What--?” Edge broke off in confusion as Rus slipped to his feet. The languid way he held his body made him seem oddly graceful. Deliberately, Rus let the quilt slither down to the floor, leaving only the soft pajamas clinging to his bones. It was oddly distracting, didn’t give Edge a chance to back away as Rus curved a hand behind skull, holding him as he swooped in to press their mouths together. Pure shock stopped him from pulling away at first. He kept his teeth shut against the sly flick of Rus's tongue, pressed coaxingly, sliding wetly against Edge’s closed mouth. 

Edge’s uniform left his spine exposed, deliberately so, no loose material to grab and it was a false vulnerability that had fooled more than one attacker. Only now it left him open to Rus’s clever fingers, his hand curving around his spine to skim knowingly over the bones and cartilage, teasing out flashes of unwanted pleasure and that was enough to wake Edge from his frozen shock. 

He tore away, barely resisting the urge to shove Rus violently back, even as he fought the pulse of his own arousal, dizzying and unexpected. His own restraint was vanishingly low, worn by lack of sleep and the frustrated anger at all of this, and he very nearly raised an attack. 

“You—” he broke off, too furious to even form words.

But his anger faded as he caught sight of Rus's face, the angry desperation obvious behind his smirk, "what? you wanted to take the lead? c’mon then, let’s head out to the dance floor. or back up to your room, the bed’s more comfortable."

Edge exhaled shakily, clinging to his self-control. "Don't," he said firmly. "Don't act like it's about…that."

He couldn’t say it wasn’t about sex, not without knowing what Rus had been through. But it definitely wasn’t about whatever Rus was trying to offer. 

A harsh laugh, Rus’s eye lights raking down Edge’s body. "trying to say you don't want it?"

Not one minute ago, he would have been able to unequivocally say yes. Before he'd distractedly licked his teeth and tasted the unexpected sweetness left behind, before he’d felt Rus pressed tight against him, his hands teasing, his mouth offering silent promises. But Rus was far too good at reading expressions to try for a lie. 

Another truth, then.

He set his hands on Rus’s shoulders and that smirk widened. Only to falter as Edge pushed him firmly back into the chair, gathering up the quilt to wrap around him again.

"I didn't help you so I could try to fuck you," Edge said, bluntly. “If that was my plan, there were certainly easier ways to go about it, don’t you think?”

That sullen anger was crumbling away, sockets too wide as Rus looked up at Edge. It made him seem startlingly vulnerable and whatever defenses Rus usually kept up were badly formed, leaving behind only tired confusion. "then why? i don't get it. i don’t understand why you want me to stay. why’re you helping me at all, you don’t even _like_ me.”

And Edge didn’t know how to explain it to him, not if Rus didn’t understand. It wasn’t about liking, nor was it anything to do with his friendship with Blue. He considered it for a moment, taking the time to allow his roused magic to settle. 

Slowly, piecing the words together as carefully as he’d solve a puzzle, “If I came to your home and I was hurt, would you turn me away?”

Rus blinked up at him and there, finally, dawning realization. If Rus hadn’t been so exhausted, so very hurt, he likely would have drawn the right conclusion on his own. But all his normal cocky confidence had briefly been beaten out of him and there was no faulting him for not being able to think straight when he could barely stand. 

There was still a lingering hint of confusion, but Rus shook his head and whispered, “no. i wouldn’t.”

“Then please allow me to be at least as decent as you are.”

That dry statement earned him a startled laugh. “yeah, i guess i can manage that. okay.”

“Okay,” Edge repeated, softly. “Now, are you going to let me feed you.”

“my decency only goes so far.” Rus drew up a leg, resting his chin on his knee. “if you’re gonna keep insisting on feeding me, i’ll take it.”

“Then come on.”

He didn’t trust Rus’s legs to carry him all the way to the kitchen, and his distrust was proven when Rus only sighed wearily, struggling to his feet with what dwindling strength he had left. 

“sorry,” Rus muttered, his head ducked low, eye lights on the floor. 

“For what?” Edge countered. “Do you want my help?”

His nod was reluctant, embarrassed. 

Edge slid an arm around him, careful to keep his hands from anywhere inappropriate. He still ended up half-carrying Rus to the kitchen, allowed him to sink into one of the other chairs with a relieved sigh. Rus fumbled to gather the quilt close again and Edge let him, allowed him to wrap himself back up in the soft folds. 

“Let’s see,” Edge murmured, mostly to himself as he opened the fridge, perusing the contents thoughtfully. It was closer to lunch than breakfast and while Rus needed something to eat, his magic was likely unsettled. Something light and easy to manage would be best. There was a container of broth leftover from making dumplings a few nights before, and a couple eggs left in the door. Edge pulled out all of it, setting it on the counter. He set a pan on the burner and poured in the broth to heat. "Have you spoken with your brother?" 

"yep."

Rus didn’t elaborate and Edge sighed, stirring the broth. “I would apologize for what you overheard when I was speaking with Red, but it would be a lie.” He heard Rus inhale sharply, but when he didn’t protest, Edge went on. “I won’t pressure you to speak about what happened. But I will admit I sent my brother looking for information. Evidence gets destroyed quickly in a place with weather as unstable as Snowdin, and if it was necessary, I didn’t want it to get lost.”

“that’s not a bad line of bullshit, you should stick with that one,” Rus said. “’cause, see, you don’t need evidence.” From the corner of his eye, Edge saw him shiver, a bare whisper as he said, “i already told you, they didn’t rape me.”

Edge cracked an egg into the hot broth, stirring it so it cooked in long threads. “Do you think because you weren’t raped, that what happened was in any way acceptable and shouldn’t be punished?”

But whatever openness had briefly shown itself closed off tight and Rus only muttered, “maybe i don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then we won’t,’ Edge agreed mildly. He let Rus retreat into silence, concentrating on the soup. He ladled out a small bowlful, enough to test Rus’s tolerance for food without making him worry about wasting it. Set it in front of him and watched as Rus fumbled for the spoon. 

He ate it in small, steamy bites, and when it was finished, he gave Edge a small smile, “please sir, can i have some more?”

Edge let a smile of his own show, calling back as he took the bowl to the stove “Luckily for you, I’m kinder than any Dickens story.”

“you are.” Quietly, from behind him.

He kept his expression placid, encouraging Rus to keep eating, and hiding the cold thoughts growing at the back of his mind. Red was the evidence seeker, but this time Edge was the one who found useful information, all packaged into a single word. 

They. 

The proximity alarms cut off that line of thought and Edge frowned, pulling out his phone to check the cameras. With the storm rising, there weren’t any Monsters he could think of that would try to either visit or attack right now. He squinted as the staticky picture came clear, sockets going wide as it showed him Blue staggering through the harsh winds, headed for the front door. 

“I thought you said you talked to your brother?” Edge snapped. He shoved the phone towards Rus, showing him his brother’s determined approach.

But Rus seemed as surprised as he was, the spoon falling from his hand. He looked stricken, a faint flush of agitated magic rising in his cheek bones. “i did. i never told him i was here, just that i’d be back soon.”

Edge exhaled slowly and nodded. “Stay here.”

He left Rus in the kitchen, door carefully closed as he made his way to the front door to start on the locks. With any luck, he could deal with this quickly and send Blue back to Underswap, but he had his doubts. 

Luck was in short supply in all the ‘verses lately, it seemed.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

By the time Edge undid all the door locks, Blue was already on his front porch. Blue looked up as the door swung open before he could even knock. The stars of his eye lights were pale and constricted, and he was wringing his gloved hands together, distraught.

“Come inside,” Edge said gruffly, holding open the door. Despite his jacket, Blue was shivering, his scarf dancing along with the wind as the storm blew furiously. The snow left the world in a blur of fat flakes, concealing Snowdin in wintry camouflage.

Blue didn’t stray far from the door mat. There was melting snow dripping from his boots, but he made no attempt to remove them. He looked up at Edge with wide sockets limned with tears the same color as his nickname as he blurted out, “I can’t find my brother.”

If Blue had come to him like this the day before, Edge would have been impatient, perhaps even angry at Rus for selfishly putting his brother through such worry.

To suddenly be thrust into the position of hiding Rus from his brother was disconcerting.

“What do you mean?” Edge asked, in what he hoped was an encouraging tone. 

“I can’t find him!” Blue cried. “He didn’t come home last night and that happens sometimes, and he didn’t show up at his sentry post and that happens, too. He texted me that he’d be home later, but I’ve been everywhere in Underswap and no one has seen him! Sans and Papyrus haven’t seen him and here…” Blue hesitated there. 

The absurdity of him trying not to insult Underfell by saying his brother wouldn’t have come here while Rus was hiding in his kitchen was not lost on Edge.

His brother had assured Edge on many occasions that he was a terrible liar. But Red was nothing if not creative and instead, he’d taught Edge the art of perspective truth. He was grateful for those lessons now. “I’m sure your brother is safe.”

“Yes, but…can you help me look for him?” Blue looked up at him tearily. “I’m worried, he’s never been gone this long.” Blue seemed to take his hesitance as reluctance. Pleadingly, he added, “Maybe you can think of some other place to look, you’re clever like that, it…it would be like a puzzle!”

A puzzle, yes, but not the type Blue thought it was and Edge didn’t have a ready solution. Blue would be hurt and confused if he refused, perhaps even suspicious. Even his dislike of Rus was no excuse for not helping Blue. And yet, he couldn’t leave Rus here while they went off on what Edge knew was a wild goose chase.

There were traps in every direction and Edge didn’t know which way to step.

The kitchen door opening behind him took the choice away. He and Blue turned as one to see Rus standing in the doorway, a hand raised feebly in greeting.

“i’m here, bro,” Rus said, tiredly.

The upset on Blue’s face didn’t fade, but it did change, the pieces reassembling into something like disappointment. His pale eye lights flicked to Edge accusingly but didn’t linger, focusing quickly back on his brother.

“What are you doing here?” Blue sighed out. “I know you like to enjoy yourself, but honestly, I expected better of Edge than to let you shirk your duties.”

“sorry, bro,” Rus mumbled. He kept his head down, accepted it as Blue railed on, and whenever he glanced at Edge, his disappointment was palpable.

Suddenly, Blue’s sour looks clicked as Edge realized how this must appear to him. His brother at Edge’s home, dressed in Edge’s pajamas and Rus himself had implied that his brother was somewhat disapproving of his sexual proclivities.

Rus said nothing. He stood there, head bowed, with stars only knew what injuries hiding beneath his clothes and was he simply going to allow his brother to believe he’d decided to come over here…for what? For sex? Even if Blue was accustomed to his brother doing such things, it was somewhat insulting that he’d assume it so quickly of Edge.

“He wasn’t shirking his duties,” Edge said sharply, interrupting Blue just as he started in on the importance of sentry duty. Rus’s head snapped up and Blue’s mouth hung open as he blinked up in Edge in shock. Understandably; Edge didn’t think he’d ever raised his voice to Blue but then, he’d never been so frustrated with him either.

“What do you mean?” Blue asked, slowly. Giving Edge at least the benefit of the doubt and something about that prickled; why him, why not ask his brother what happened instead of automatically assuming he was here for a tryst?

Edge glanced at Rus and his expression was desperately pleading. He understood Rus’s fears, but there were limits, and Edge did not care for Blue to believe he was taking advantage of his brother’s promiscuity on one hand while speaking ill of him on the other. And if there was danger in Underswap, Blue needed to know.

So even with Rus’s pleading anguish, Edge turned to Blue and said, “Your brother was attacked last night, I brought him here to care for him.”

He kept it at attacked, didn’t voice his other suspicions. But he never would have believed he would see Blue wave a hand at him dismissively and say, “Don’t be ridiculous, no one in Underswap would have hurt him.”

From the moment he’d met Blue, Edge had found him a soothing presence. His sweet enthusiasm for puzzles and traps, his eagerness to share recipes, his hopefulness to join the guard even as it was obvious he didn’t quite understand all it entailed. He was a peculiar mixture of traits that Edge knew well, all in a package that reminded him of Red, and in his darkest, guiltiest moments Edge basked at being in his supportive presence. And yet with his brother standing right in front of him, still visibly weak if anyone bothered to look, even more obvious in a Check, Blue dismissed him without a second thought? This was not a mirror image of his brother nor anything Edge would have believed about his friend.

“Are you suggesting that I’m lying?” With some difficulty, Edge kept his voice low and even. “Or that he is?”

Blue blinked up at him rapidly, taken aback, “Oh, well, of course not! But…Papy, tell him what really happened.” And when Rus said nothing, only stood there with his arms crossed, his hands clasped over his wrists where Edge knew dark bruises lay. As lost as he looked, Blue only repeated, a touch impatiently, "Papy, tell him!"

Edge and Blue both leapt back as something fell heavily between them, Edge with an attack and a curse nearly formed before he realized what it was. Rus’s sweatshirt, the dark, dried smears of marrow stark against the dirty orange.

From the second floor, Red leaned against the bannister, calling down, “that work for an answer?”

Blue knelt next to the crumpled sweatshirt, hands hovering over it, and there was the horrified shock that Edge expected, a match to his own. With a single, trembling fingertip, he touched one of those stains, traced the ragged line across the fabric. “Papy,” he whispered, “What did you do?”

The fragile control Edge had on his temper snapped like a dry twig beneath his boot. All the warm affection he’d held for Blue seemed distorted, birthed from a lie. Blue was supposed to be like _him_ , the exasperated younger brother caring for their troublesome sibling, not this, never this.

“So what you’re saying is your brother did something to deserve being hurt, is that it?” Edge snarled out.

Blue scrambled to his feet, shock layering overtop shock, “No, no, of course not!” Blue cried, “but how could…I mean, no one would hurt him!”

“Then you believe in everyone else over him.” That rising rage was dark, cold, to think that Blue would put the word of others over his own brother and Edge never claimed to like Rus, lazy and sardonic, smoking and sleeping away his life, but even he could see the way Rus adored his brother, encouraged him when he and Edge began their cooking lessons, listened when he chatted happily about Alphys and the guard. And to have _this_ given back to him in return? It was dumbfounding, enraging.

“I didn’t say that!” There were no stars in Blue’s eye lights now, only shrunken, pale rounds, “You’re putting words in my mouth!”

“I’m only repeating what I am hearing from you!” Edge snarled, “How can you look at your brother’s bloody clothes and blame him for what happened?”

“I am not blaming him! But Underswap isn't like that, we help each other, we don’t—“

“You don’t seem very much like you’re helping to me!”

“hey, asshats,” Red said loudly from behind them. Edge whirled to face him, nearly panting in his fury and he couldn’t even say if Red had teleported or walked downstairs. That was a dangerous level of distraction, he struggled for control even as he snapped at his brother.

“What?!”

In answer, Red tipped his head silently towards the kitchen. Where Rus was curled up on the floor by the doorway, his hands pressed fruitlessly to the sides of his skull as he rocked. Next to Edge, Blue gasped softly.

“Papy?” Blue said uncertainly. He took a step towards his brother, reaching out. Only to let his hand fall emptily as Rus vanished in a blur of void.

"yeah, that was real helpful,” Red snorted. “you two wanna take your pissing match someplace else?"

The sag of Blue’s shoulders stiffened as he drew himself up to his full height, saying with unfamiliar coldness, “That won't be necessary. I’ll prove it to you!”

Edge didn’t move when Blue stalked out of the house, even when a swirl of snow blew in through the door as he stormed out. The sudden silence left behind as the door slammed shut drained away the last of Edge’s anger. In his rib cage, his soul felt aching and empty. His friends were few and the loss of one hurt. But there was another ache that was stronger.

“I need to find him,” Edge said tiredly.

“eh, let the blueberry cool off--“

“Not him.”

Red stilled, his teeth parting in a silent ‘ah’. “sugar skull didn't get far, still too low on gas.” Red jerked his head towards the stairs. “he went back to your room.”

Immediately Edge turned towards the stairs, only pausing as his brother spoke sharply.

“papyrus.”

_Not now_. But Edge waited, unwilling to risk the argument that would come if he ignored his brother when he spoke like that. 

_(He listened to his brother, always, never dismissed him, never, did he? Didn’t he? Edge had dismissed Rus before, he had, lazy idiot, but not like this, so hurt, so afraid and angry and—)_

He shook away his whirling thoughts, looking fixedly at his own closed door, trying not to imagine what might lay behind it. “What is it?”

Red was not prone to kindness nor sentiment, but there was a certain carefulness, a warning as he said, “you’re getting in kinda deep here. remember, he ain’t wearing your collar.”

Edge stood stiffly, not looking away from the door. The paint was chipped, marks of discoloration left from him pulling loose the posters and signs that had once covered it. He’d torn them down the day he was accepted into the guard, deciding they were childish and he no longer needed childish things. “I’m not likely to forget.”

“just so’s you remember,” Red tucked his hands into his pockets, rocking easily on his heels and Edge knew him. He knew those crimson eye lights, so like his own, saw far deeper than he could ever try. “i’ll go keep an eye on the blueberry, make sure he don’t find more trouble than he can handle.”

He sidestepped into nothingness and Edge was alone. No, not alone and he sighed heavily and went up the stairs. He rapped his knuckles lightly on the closed door, then turned the knob. “Rus?”

His vision adjusted to the darkness of the room and Edge could see Rus sitting on the bed, his arms pillowing his head on his updrawn knees. He was swathed in blankets, one corner hooding his skull. The silence of the room was only broken by the muted howl of the wind from outside and through the barred window the swirl of snow was only growing in fury.

Edge went over to sit next to the bed. Regret was unfamiliar to him; in his life, Edge made many choices that were perhaps not the best in hindsight, but he did not regret them. Pushing forward was the only route. But sitting here, watching the slight quiver to Rus’s shoulders, he regretted losing his temper, of making this worse for Rus after all he’d already endured.

"i didn’t want him to know.” A low, hoarse whisper from within the blankets.

"I'm sorry,” Edge told him. He meant it, that was not the way Blue should have been told. Not that he could think of another, Blue’s denial still shook him to his core. “But you can't protect him that way."

“yeah.” That single word carried on a sigh. Rus pushed back the blankets, and the tear streaks on his cheek bones made sorrow sting in Edge’s soul. Another tear rolled down, but when he spoke, it was with soft wonder, “you really believe all that, don’t you.”

Edge frowned. “Of course I do, your brother should know the truth-“

“not that. i mean. everything else. all this protective bullshit. it’s not bullshit to you, you really believe that i didn’t,” Rus shuddered, and he amended, “that it’s not my fault.”

“Yes, I do,” Edge said softly, and wondered whoever made Rus think it would be otherwise. 

Rus nodded, swiping impatiently at his face with his sleeve. “fuck, i want a cigarette.”

“I’m afraid that’s one I can’t help you with.”

He let out a faint chuckle. “you’ve already helped me so much. i shouldn’t be asking you for anything else.”

“You can.”

Rus closed his sockets briefly. “but-“

"Ask.” After seeing his brother’s rejection, the urge to help was close to overwhelming. Not his, no, not his brother, not in his collar, but Rus deserved to belong to _someone_. 

Rus swallowed hard, dryly, the click loud in the small room. "would you sleep with me?"

Shock almost left him speechless. Not the desperate, angry offering of before, only tremulous yearning and that was more difficult to turn away from. “Rus—”

"i really mean sleep," Rus added hastily. “it’s just. i’m still tired and i burned what little magic i had with that shortcut.” The soft, embarrassed shame as he admitted, “i don’t want to be alone.”

“I can sit right here.”

“okay,” Rus agreed quietly. But it obviously wasn’t what he wanted and Edge wavered, his brother’s words still hovering like a dark cloud at the back of his mind. 

Then Edge pushed them away. His brother was right, he was in too deep and had been from the moment he’d walked into that garage. It was much too late to stop, another regret he refused to carry. 

Edge climbed on the bed. “Here,” he said roughly. But he was careful as he tugged Rus closer, wary of whatever hurts were still concealed beneath the layers of blanket. It would probably look ridiculous to an outsider, the two of them stiff as boards against each other, awkwardly searching for a places to put arms and legs. In minute increments, Rus relaxed, leaning against him. Cautiously, Edge wrapped an arm around his shoulders and that helped, made it easier for Rus to settle in.

“hmmm, you’re warm,” Rus murmured. He already sounded drowsy, his body demanding rest to recover his magic.

“Feels normal to me.” Hesitantly teasing and he felt Rus shake with silent laughter. “I have high HP, I tend to run hotter than most Monsters.”

“yeah, you do.” There was a certain, strange appreciation in those words, but Rus drifted off before Edge could think of a response.

His own exhaustion was pulling him down; he’d been awake for some thirty hours now. There was a brief internal battle over his commitments; he hadn’t been asked to guard, only to sleep, and his home was safe, especially with the storm blowing.

He was so tired. 

Rus was a light weight against his side, his breath soft and sweet, and Edge shifted, letting his skull fall back on the headboard as he pulled Rus a fraction closer and slept.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fell brothers have a disagreement.

* * *

Before they’d come to Snowdin, before their well-protected house with locks on the door and wards layered over every barred window and entrance, Edge spent most of his life sleeping outside. Curled up in the alleyways of New Home behind trash bins, hidden in filthy pockets dug out from trash heaps in the dump. 

His first memory of sleeping in a bed was in this house, and he still slept lightly. Wary of any XP seekers creeping up on him, ones too immoral to take heed of a striped shirt despite the punishment of death if they were caught. Depending on LV-maddened Monsters to be rational wouldn’t bring one back from dust; his own first LV came from such an attack, sending a needle-sharp bone into the eye of his would-be murderer and sometimes Edge still remembered the screams. 

He summoned such a bone now, small and hidden in his hand before opening his sockets to see where the weight of the stare he could feel was coming from. 

By the bedside, Red stood looking down at them, his expression unreadable. It cleared Edge’s mind to see him, instinct allowing rationality and memory to return. 

He was in his own bed, that much he remembered. He didn’t remember sinking down from his sitting position at the headboard, nor did he remember allowing Rus to curl up closer to him, all his slim weight pressed against Edge. Currently, Rus was more on top of him than not, his skull snugged into Edge’s shoulder. One long leg was slung over both Edge’s and they each had their arms around the other in a messy tangle of limbs. Edge's free hand had somehow worked itself beneath Rus's shirt, his fingers circling the strong line of his spine almost possessively. Edge let go hastily, but Rus didn’t seem to have Edge’s sense of awareness; he only slept on, his breathing soft and even. One of his hands was curled up loosely on Edge’s chest, his sleeve pushed up and even in the dimness Edge could see the darkened bruise circling his wrist, a stark reminder of why Rus was here. 

The harsh gleam of Red’s eye lights was starker, prickling sharp. He jerked his head towards the door, walking off without waiting for Edge. 

With a clench of his fist, Edge dismissed the attack and went to work at detangling himself from Rus. It was a more difficult task than he’d expected; Rus clung like one of the parasitic vines that curled up the pine trees in Snowdin forest, making a low, unhappy sound as Edge carefully loosened his grip and slipped free. He still didn’t wake, sighing softly as Edge drew the blankets back over him, tucking in the soft folds. Edge lingered a moment, absently tracing one of his coronal sutures, following the curve of Rus’s skull. Then he turned away.

His bare bone feet were silent on the carpet as he went after his brother, but the moment he closed the door behind him, Edge jerked to feel harsh pressure on his soul, the soft, audible ting as it turned blue. 

“What—” _the fuck_. The words were bitten off, unspoken, as he was yanked forward, dragged forcibly down the stairs to land painfully on his knees at his brother’s feet, hard enough to knock off a couple of HP points. 

With some effort, Edge lifted his chin enough to look up at Red, who glared down at him with one darkened socket, the other filled with blazing crimson fury. The fingers of his raised hand curled fractionally and Edge choked, struggling to breathe for one beat, two, and then Red’s grip relaxed enough to let him drag in one harsh inhale. 

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” Red snarled. It should be disturbing to see that raw anger directed at him and what did it say that some part of Edge was ruthlessly pleased to see his brother’s protective instincts so roused for Rus, even if it was against him. He’d watched Red fight other Monsters so many times before, that razor-grin of his recklessly wild as he easily sidestepped their attacks, dragging their HP down to one before leaving them to bleed out, kicking their dust off his shoes without a backwards glance. 

Red was pitilessly efficient, his anger only tempered now by who Edge was, protective instincts warring against each other. He knew his brother, knew how deeply buried the fragments of Red’s caring were, and wondered dimly if part of his anger was because they’d been unearthed and brought to light. 

Edge only panted, struggling to breathe around the pressure still heavy on his soul, shaking his head, "There was nothing untoward going on."

"oh, no, nothing untoward,” Red said, saccharine sweet, contrasting with the blaze of his fury. That crazed strobe of his eye light increased to a seizure-inducing pulse. “two pals curled up all cozy, was that it?”

"He asked me to stay!"

"oh, he asked for it, did he. think that’s what those other fuckers told themselves?”

Crimson was the shade of magic and anger to Edge, but in that moment, rage flared white-hot, his own magic rousing in sharp warning. It was too close to what Rus accused him of before, the memory of Rus offering sex to him, his desperation and fear. Bad enough from Rus, but at least understandable, twisted in confusion as he was. That his own brother would even consider he would do such a thing…! Edge pushed back against Red’s phantom grip with a pulse of his own, the laws of gravity slippery between them as he snarled out, "Don't you even _insinuate_ that I would take advantage of him! Don’t you _dare!"_

For one brief, eternal moment, they glared at each other with their magic straining against control, violence trembling on the brittle edge of tipping over. Then Red dropped his hand and stepped back, allowing Edge to struggle to his feet. 

He fell back to lean against the banister, still panting. Shook himself like a wet dog, sloughing off the dregs of his brother’s intent. It was more difficult to wrench in his own magic, dragging it sullenly inward when it was eager to be used, sitting pulsing and ready since the moment he’d found Rus.

Red only stepped back, putting necessary space between them as he stripped off his jacket. He tossed it carelessly on the coffee table, one sleeve trailing along the floor. His shoes followed, this time placed properly on the mat even though a trail of wet footprints were visible on the carpet, leading up the stairs, but not down. By the time he turned back to Edge, his eye lights were their normal crimson.

"sorry ‘bout that,” Red said, finally, with rare sincerity, “i don’t think you would, bro. not on purpose. but he's confused as all fuck right now and i know how you feel about the honey bun."

"What?" Edge pushed himself upright to look at his brother blankly, the remains of his anger draining into confusion. "How _I_ feel?”

That confusion only worsened at his brother’s skeptical look. It morphed slowly into dark, sardonic amusement, his permanent grin widening with a flash of sharp teeth. "really, bro?” Red shook his head. “we’re really gonna go here. okay, what’s his favorite movie?”

“What?” The non-sequitur only threw Edge off even more.

“movie,” Red repeated impatiently, sharp fingertips tapping.

“I suppose it’s that wretched one with those ghost hunters.”

“uh huh. how does he take his coffee?”

“With enough sugar and milk to turn it to mud, what are you—"

“favorite brekkie?”

“Pancakes drowning in honey,” Edge snapped irritably, “Enough! What are you getting at?”

Red only looked at him with blatant disappointment, as he might if Edge stupidly allowed mercy only to be attacked the moment his back was turned. “bro,” Red said, deliberately, “you know an awful lot about a guy you don’t like. c’mon, you two argue like advanced foreplay. me and sans have been making bets on how long it takes for you two to sack up for weeks. personally, i figured you’d give in by now, but you always were a stubborn shit.”

It was one of the more ridiculous assumptions he’d ever heard. Edge stalked over to sit down on the sofa that Rus kept avoiding, kicking Red’s jacket aside to brace a bare foot against the coffee table. He propped his chin on one hand and asked with mocking politeness, “And when were you go to mention this absurd theory of yours?”

“what, and ruin this prime entertainment?" Red grinned wolfishly. But it faded quickly into uncommon seriousness, "but the game is postponed for rain, kiddo. he’s not in a good place. you don’t watch yourself, you’re gonna fuck this up.” He stalked over and poked a sharp fingertip painfully into Edge’s sternum hard enough to scrape a bead of marrow. “better think long and hard about what you're doing." Red grimaced. “okay, that's a pun even i don't like, scratch it."

“There’s nothing to think about,” Edge said, coldly. He pushed back to his feet, “from now on, keep your idiocy between you and Sans.” He started back up the stairs, wary of letting Rus wake on his own after what happened the last time. 

“do you even get how deep you’re digging yourself?” Red called out, each word tipped with razor intent. “you don’t have your head on any kind of straight over this! wanna know why i was even in your room, little brother? you didn’t lock the front door. storm's over, the buns are out clearing the roads and you were sound asleep, all ready for a knife in the back!”

The words drove in between his shoulder blades and Edge hunched as if they were a knife, stabbing deep. The locks were saturated with magic as was the door and while they couldn’t keep out a determined opponent, they would at least provide enough warning for them to wake and defend themselves. 

Unless the door wasn’t locked. 

They were useless bits of metal if the bolts weren’t thrown, leaving the house and its occupants unshielded and vulnerable to anyone bold enough to simply turn the doorknob.

Blue had slammed the door closed when he left, Red had shortcutted after him and Edge hadn’t locked the door because he’d been worried about Rus, worried about his reaction to his brother’s unexpected denials. Too worried, enough to cloud his judgement. Red was right, always fucking right, and what else was he right about?

He liked to think he was self-aware and his sudden clarity was unpleasant. Edge didn't hide from anything, not even unwelcome realizations. If he looked inward, he could see that perhaps there were moments of absurd fondness for Rus even in the midst of their past arguments, his exasperation tempered with something else entirely. Rus had been abrasive and rude from the start and Edge gave it back in spades, but didn’t he always return for more, wasn’t there a certain thrill to a perfect insult given or received? 

Unwillingly, Edge thought of the kiss that Rus had forced on him. How would it have been if they'd both actually wanted it, that remembered sweetness eager instead of angry. Only Rus was so hurt right now, lost, and—

Red sighed, breaking through his circling thoughts, “he could be good for you, bro. maybe you’d be good for each other. work on getting a collar on him and you can find out. but not now. let’s work on getting this problem taken care of and then maybe.”

There was a sound of movement and they both looked up to see the light showing from beneath Edge’s door. But the door remained closed and Edge exhaled slowly, asking with deliberate softness, “What happened with Blue?”

From the scoffing sound Red made, he wasn’t fooled by the subject change, but he let it drop, “eh, the blueberry skulked around town for a while then went home. He was in the kitchen when i left, taking his bad mood out on some veggies. least the kid can handle a knife. when our sugar skull is feeling well enough to head for home, he’ll have something to snack on.”

The thought of Rus going back to Underswap to face his brother alone made sourness rise in the back of Edge’s throat. He managed to swallow it down and nodded curtly, starting back up the stairs. Through the creak of wood, he heard his brother say under his breath, “keep it in your pants, boss.”

Edge ignored him. His pants weren’t the problem when it came to Rus.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Rus talks about what happened to him. It’s not terribly graphic and we know that he wasn’t raped. But he was assaulted, physically and sexually, and it was traumatic for him.
> 
> I’ve been plastering this story with warnings from the beginning so this is just a reminder.

* * *

Not wishing to startle Rus, Edge knocked lightly before he opened his bedroom door. Rus was awake, sitting up on the bed with an opened book in his lap, messily bundled up in the blankets. One corner was drawn up over his skull like a hood, casting his face in shadow, but it fell back when he looked up. His faint smile was nothing like the sharp grins Edge was accustomed to from Rus, softer and more genuine.  
   
Edge hesitated, one hand still on the doorknob, a helpless smile of his own touching the corners of his mouth. The sudden flutter in his soul at the sight of that smile told him far too much; that his brother was right and more than that, that Edge was an oblivious fool, because when had someone else’s smile ever drawn one from him in return? Had it ever? With the blackest of humor, Edge supposed it was best he realized it now as Red was vanishingly unlikely to mock him about his ignorance when his realization came at this price.  
   
Somewhat awkwardly, Rus held up the book. “sorry, i didn’t mean to mess around with your stuff. just wanted something to do with my hands.”  
   
It was one he’d borrowed, on puzzle theory, only waiting to be returned. “Considering that it’s your brother’s book, I hardly have room to complain.”  
   
Thoughtlessly said and Edge regretted mentioning Blue immediately as Rus winced. A subject change, then. “Would you like something else to eat?”  
   
That brought his faint smile back, charmingly soft, and, oh, he really was in deep, fuck his brother for always being right. “you really don’t have to try to keep feeding me. i know you guys don’t need another mouth to chew through your groceries.”  
   
Their supplies were less dire with the other ‘verses occasional contributions, reluctant as Edge was to accept them. But even if he’d be forced to consume rotting leftovers for a week until the next supply shipment, Edge would have offered. Seeing a flush of health return to the pallor of Rus’s skull was becoming a necessity. “Let me worry about that.”  
   
But Rus had a too-knowing look of his own, and he shook his head. “nah, i’m okay.”  
   
It was tempting to press, but past experience taught him that Rus would only dig in his heels harder if he did. “Then I would like to Check you, if you don’t mind.”  
   
Rus cringed a little but nodded. “go ahead.”  
   
It was a measure of trust, if only a small one. He still shivered as the Check washed over him. The results were promising; his magic levels were finally rising with the food and rest, and his bruises would fade, eventually. Physically, Rus was recovering. Unfortunately, his physical condition was all Edge could see.  
   
But the way he fidgeted, eye lights averted as he playing with the corner of the blanket spoke more of his mental state. “look, um, i think. i think i want to tell you what happened. i need to get it straight in my head. but. if i tell you, i need you to promise me you won’t do anything to them.”  
   
Edge’s brief flush of triumph was immediately doused. “They deserved to be punished.”  
   
“maybe. probably. i don’t care about that.” Rus looked up, their eye lights met and held, his gaze steady and determined. “i don’t want any lv in your soul on my account. before, i thought you helping me was about…i dunno. that it wasn’t about me, it was about you needing revenge when it wasn’t even yours to take. but it hasn’t been, you actually care that i’m okay. so, don’t go back that way. please.”  
   
“Rus—“  
   
“promise me or i won’t tell.” And of course now would be the moment a shadow of Rus’s former challenging nature would return.  
   
The desire to punish was strong. The need to help Rus heal was stronger, to bring back if not their antagonism but that sharp confidence he’d always possessed. Perhaps they would return to the past days of sniping and insults, perhaps not, but if he wanted more from Rus than that, Edge couldn’t hurt him by denying him this.  
   
In the end, it needed to be about Rus and Edge already broke his trust once, telling Blue.  
   
Edge sighed heavily. "I promise."  
   
“do i need to check that your fingers aren’t crossed?”  
   
Two days ago that would have angered him, that Rus was doubting his word. Now he could hear the hint of teasing, see the tremulous way Rus smiled, the overbright shine of his eye lights. Silently, Edge held up his hands, fingers spread and that smile widened to a shaky laugh.  
   
“okay, okay, i believe you.” Rus’s smile faltered, faded. He closed the book, his eye lights falling from Edge’s to the cover. “um. i was at muffet’s, because you and my bro were doing your cooking thing. i’m good with the results, but hanging around listening to you two chop and bitch isn’t my idea of a good time.”  
   
Rus hesitated, each word slow and precise as he traced the geometric shapes on the book cover with one finger. ”i didn’t even know these guys, not all of them, anyway. this group from hotland who thought they were slumming in snowdin. one of them i’ve known for years, though. i thought he was my friend. i never thought he’d…hurt me.”  
   
The book jacket was wrinkling beneath his worrying finger. Carefully, Edge moved to sit on the side of the bed. Rus’s sockets widened in alarm, but Edge only sat, one hand extended, offering. Hesitantly, Rus took it and his hand was cool, the smooth bones catching against Edge’s scarred ones.  
    
“they were staying at the inn. thought they were inviting me over for drinks, you know? maybe smoke a little weed. i didn’t realize they were hoping for—" Rus laughed, darkly, “i dunno. a gangbang?” He wiped a shaking hand down his face. “i like sex, i’m not ashamed of it. but nothing like that, i don’t even know why they thought i would….do you believe they offered me money? because i go home sometimes with someone after a couple drinks, they figured i was a prostitute or something. i’ve known him for years, he never once asked before, not once.”  
   
"i don’t think i even really understood at first, and when i did, i tried to leave. that was when he hit me. right in the face. i wasn’t expecting it, it hurt and i was bleeding and then he tried to—“ Rus’s sudden laugh was harsh, ugly. “but one nice thing about being a skeleton is you don't have to have anything for them to fuck. i wouldn't make anything and that's when he got nasty.” His grip on Edge’s hand tightened in increments until their bones were grinding together painfully. "i don't--it's a little blurry after that. i would've gotten out of there, but he hit me again and then he was sitting on me and someone was holding me down--" Rus shuddered. “maybe you don’t want to hear this.”  
   
“If you want to stop, I won’t press, but you can tell me.” And if it was taking every scrap of control he’d ever learned to keep his rage in check, Rus didn’t need to know.  
   
“i think he actually got off on hurting me. he…he didn’t...he couldn’t _to_ me, but,” his voice was too-soft and ragged, breaking on every word. Edge’s imagination was already cruelly filling in the gaps, remembering what Red said about his shorts.  
   
Hurting him, yes, hurting him was the point and Edge had seen their kind before. In Underfell, they were almost always crazed with LV, coldly brutal and eager to cause the pain that they could no longer feel. That they could exist in Underswap, could be this way with no LV at all, was horrific, obscene. Monster souls were not made to be capable of this.  
   
A droplet of warm wetness fell on their joined hands, another, Rus’s voice thickened and clotted. “i couldn’t think, all i could do was beg him to stop. the first chance i had to shortcut, i did. but i didn’t…i didn’t fight, didn’t even try to yell. the dogi were right downstairs, i could have screamed for help, but all i could think was stop, that they needed to _stop_.” Another sniffle, Rus scrubbing hard at his face. “why am i so upset about this? it wasn’t that bad. i got a couple broken bones and some bruises, someone jerked off on me. it's my own fault, anyway—“  
   
"No."  
   
"what?" Rus looked up in startled confusion.  
   
"No," Edge repeated. He hadn't interrupted anything from before, listened with useless rage kindled and burning, but he refused to hear that. "I will not sit here and listen to you say that any part of this was your fault, do you understand me? They hurt you, you’re allowed to be upset, you should be. None of this, none of it, is your fault.”  
   
“edge—” Rus whispered. His eye lights were wide, dampness glistening at his sockets, on his cheekbones. As Edge watched a single tear slipped down to be wiped impatiently away with a sleeve and it was in the same motion that Rus leaned in and kissed him. Softer this time, a tentative press of mouths. The anger was gone and Rus only tasted of salt and grief. Suddenly, Red’s caution made sense, sharpening into crystal clarity. Rus was offering, but his consent was compromised.  
   
Very carefully, he took hold of Rus’s shoulders and pushed him back. Fear lit suddenly in his wide sockets, but it was not fear of Edge.  
   
"Don't," Edge said, with as much gentleness as he could.  
   
Rus shuddered, trying to draw away, "i’m sorry."  
   
“No, don’t apologize.” Edge took back his hold on Rus’s hand, his grip gentle.  
   
The world had turned upside down even more than when he’d learned the other universes existed. In such a short time his own emotions were caught in tangle, a Gordian knot of anger, protectiveness, and slowly shaping desire. He could only imagine the state of Rus’s mind. “If you want to have sex with someone, I understand that. The need to be in control of your own body after what happened. But I can't be that person.”  
   
"yeah, i get it." But he was blinking too much, too hard, and his expression was too open, tainted with ill-hidden shame.  
   
"No, I don't think you do." Rus blinked as Edge gently touched his cheekbone. This close, he could see the faint shadow of a lingering bruise, traced it carefully with a sharp fingertip and his soul ached sorrowfully. "Rus, your body is your own. I'm more interested in your soul. You want something reaffirming and casual. That’s fine. But make no mistake, I am not casual. And if all you want is someone to make you feel safe, I’d give you that without strings attached.”  
   
Rus swallowed hard. “okay.”  
   
“Is it? You understand that I’m not saying no. I’m saying not right now, not like this.”  
   
“what if i don’t want casual, either?”  
   
Edge closed his sockets, exhaling slowly as he struggled for control. Distantly, he wondered at how such a soft whisper could bear the weight of those words. But when he opened them again, his voice was firm. “Then I think anything should wait until you find your feet again. Until we are both sure what you want isn’t just any protector available.”  
   
A light knock on the door had them both startling before Red opened it, peering through the crack, “bro.”  
   
“Yes?” Edge said, a touch impatiently. If his brother was testing that he’d kept his trousers on as requested, he’d seen enough. But Red’s eye lights flicked to Rus, raking over him, surely seeing more than Edge could; his brother always knew too much.  
   
“hey, honey bun. you need anything?” His brother’s attempt at gentle concern was almost touching.  
   
“cigarettes,” Rus grumbled and Red snorted. “nah, i’m okay.”  
   
“good. lemme talk to my bro for a mo’”  
   
Edge sighed irritably, but stood. Of course his brother would step in at exactly this moment, when it was the most inconvenient. Or perhaps not the most; if he’d opened the door a moment earlier, during that kiss, it likely wouldn’t have ended well. His hackles were well and truly raised for Rus.  
   
“I’ll be right back,” Edge told him quietly.  
   
Rus only nodded. “yeah. it’s okay, i’m,” he took a slow breath, let it out, “i’m okay.”  
   
Their fingers were still entwined, reluctant to part. But his brother was watching and Edge finally drew away, stepping out the door and closing it behind him.  
   
“Not going to throw me down the stairs again?” Edge asked archly. His knees still ached and by tonight he’d likely have bruises of his own.

Red didn’t even have the grace to show an ounce of shame, only shrugged unapologetically and said, “nah, once is good enough for today.” That idle amusement faded as he added, more seriously, “the blueberry is sitting outside on our porch.”  
   
With a frown, Edge pulled out his phone. It was true, the cameras showed Blue’s back where he was sitting on the steps. “You left him outside?” Edge asked, grudgingly appreciative. He wasn’t in a particularly forgiving mood; he would keep his promise not to go after those who hurt Rus despite it burning like salt in a gouging wound, but he wasn’t about to allow Blue to hurl more accusations.  
   
“he ain’t knocked. just sittin’ there,” Red shrugged. “thought you might want to see what he needs.”  
   
Involuntarily, Edge glanced at the bedroom door. Rus would almost certainly want to know his brother was here and yet, their last meeting hadn’t helped, at all. The memory of Rus sitting on the floor while Edge and Blue squabbled, his anguish over his brother’s words, decided him.  
   
“I’ll speak with him,” Edge said, curtly. Nothing Blue said was about to wound Edge and he could decide later whether to tell Rus his brother had stopped by. 

His own brother had taught him well that the absence of information was not technically a lie and now seemed like the time to put Red’s teachings to good use.

Hopefully, it was the only one of his brother’s lessons that Edge would need.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

The cameras gave a more expansive view of the porch, but Edge paused to look through the peephole, anyway. The fisheye view was more immediate, and he could see the way Blue’s shoulders were shaking, his scarf rustling slightly in the wind.

Edge’s hackles rose as another Monster came into view. One of the prolific bun family; they ranged from meek obedience to mean-spirited bullies and everything in between. Their usefulness within Snowdin was usually enough to excuse any belligerence, but even they were usually wise enough to keep away from the Captain’s home. Through the heavy door, Edge couldn’t hear what was said, but he swore he could feel the heat of the magic Blue summoned, a wall of jagged bones suddenly angled at the Bun. The other Monster managed to dredge up his meager common sense and retreated hastily, lumbering along the snowy road towards town.

It made Edge suppress an unwilling smile. Some of his lessons were sticking, it seemed. 

The memory of their last meeting dulled his amusement and Edge finally opened the door, saying quietly, “Blue?”

His head jerked up, a tear-stained face turning towards Edge. His usually starry-blue eye lights were dimmed to a miserable gray and his gloves hands were clenched together in his lap. Blue sniffled loudly, hiccoughing, “Edge? How can I face my brother? How can I even…?”

The words dissolved again into sobs and Blue turned away. Edge moved to the stairs, hardly noticing the cold against his bare feet. He sat next to Blue, hands dangling between his updrawn knees. He let Blue weep a moment longer, the soft cries carrying in the cold, clear morning. Then he plucked a worn but clean handkerchief from his inventory, handing it over silently. Only when Blue mopped away the worst of his tears did Edge ask, quietly, “What happened?”

The stained handkerchief twisted in Blue’s hands. “I went to Muffet’s to ask questions. I was so sure everything was a misunderstanding of some sort. I know Papy was…he was hurt,” Blue said, haltingly. He swallowed hard. “But I couldn’t believe…I thought it couldn’t have been deliberate. I asked Muffet who my brother left with that night."

"Was she able to tell you?" 

Edge thought he'd said it neutrally enough, but the look Blue gave him was unexpectedly shrewd and Edge sighed inwardly. His brother always said he was a terrible liar. 

"Yes. And he and Papy are…were…friends. I was so angry, then. I thought it _had_ to be a misunderstanding. I went home to think, but I was so sure. Then went to talk to him,” Blue let out a low, shuddering breath, curling into himself. “He said terrible things about my brother to me. How could he…? I was so horrified; I didn’t want to believe.” He let out a watery sigh. “I’m sorry, Edge, but I assumed you were basing what you saw on what you knew from Underfell. I suppose I was trying to blame you, in some way, for putting that idea into Papy’s head. I know that terrible things happen here, I couldn’t believe they might happen in Underswap. But I was wrong, I was so wrong,” he said brokenly, “he always seemed so nice before. But he was horrible, horrible!”

The confession stung, but Edge let that pass, “Did he threaten you?” _Did he hurt you, too?_

That sudden grim smile had no place on Blue’s face. “I threatened him. Tacos aren’t the only thing I’ve been learning. I told him if he ever came near my brother again, I’d make him sorry. He laughed at first, but he wasn’t laughing when I left.”

He’d kept his gaze on that stained handkerchief while he spoke; now Blue looked at Edge, fresh tears limning his sockets. “I believed in him, believed in everyone. Except you. Except my brother when he needed me.” A single tear fell, sparkling in the artificial light. “Papy isn’t always very responsible, but I never should have doubted him. I went to Alphys afterward, told her everything I knew. She was furious, she said she'd handle it."

It wasn't the punishment Edge was hoping for, but it would have to do. Gingerly, Edge settled a hand on Blue’s shoulder, felt him quivering. It should be satisfying to hear him admit he was wrong, was satisfying, but his memory of Blue’s disbelief was going to taint their friendship for some time.

But he didn’t pull away when Blue leaned into his touch. 

“How can I possibly apologize to him?” Blue whispered, and the pain in his voice might be deserved, but Edge knew it wouldn’t make Rus happy.

“Start with I’m sorry,” Edge said gruffly, “and you can go from there.”

Blue nodded. He turned to Edge and he grunted as two small, strong arms suddenly circled him, squeezing tight as Blue said fiercely, “Thank you. Thank you for helping him, for being there for him when I wasn’t.”

It would be cruel to point out that he hadn’t done it for Blue. He only nodded, waiting far too long until Blue released him. “Come on.”

He led Blue into the house, ignoring his brother’s watchful gaze as Blue followed him up the stairs, tapping lightly on the door again before he opened it.

Rus’s expression at the sight of his brother was complex, a twisted mingling of dismayed hope, all melting into shock as Blue burst into tears, burbling apologies and he’d crawled on the bed in seconds, embracing his brother. 

Silently, Edge closed the door and went downstairs. This was what Rus needed, love and support from the one whom he was closest to, helping him heal and return to normalcy as best he could. Edge had no right to the longing ache in his soul; to claim otherwise would be selfish, a sign that he wanted something for himself, not what was best for Rus.

And Edge did want that, even if it ached.

He sat on the sofa, staring unseeing at the darkened television screen. He accepted the tea his brother silently brought him, not knowing how much Red knew or understood. More than he should, Edge decided sourly. Always more than he should.

That unnatural kindness stung almost as much as Blue’s confession and Edge drank his tea, the too-hot liquid burning as he carefully did not listen to the muffled sounds from upstairs.

The Swap brothers talked for a very long time.

Much later, his door opened again and Blue re-emerged, Rus looking particularly tall and lanky at his heels. He was dressed in his own clothes, the same orange sweatshirt and track pants as always, the untied laces of his shoes trailing. Blue must have had them in his inventory. To see him that way made his memory of Rus in his pajamas blur, that vulnerability lost.

Both of them walked up to the sofa, standing by it. Rus looked down at Edge, tucking his hands into his pockets as he said, “i think i’m ready to go home.” He offered a lopsided smile with none of the softness of that morning. Already there was distance in his eye lights, those barriers returning. Rus even laughed, a little awkwardly, “can’t stay here forever, right?”

 _You could_. It was not a reasonable offer. It didn’t stop Edge from wanting to make it.

Instead, he nodded curtly.

Rus hesitated, though, his feet shuffling, as he said, softer, edged with that fading vulnerability. “thanks. for everything, i mean, i…thanks.”

His sockets widened when Edge stood, Rus freezing as Edge reached out to cup his jaw in both hands. The faint bruise on his cheekbone was gone completely; Blue must have healed it while they were upstairs. Those pale eye lights met his own, wide and diffused, filled with unreadable emotions. But his brow bone drew downward in confusion as Edge only urged him to tip his head down. 

As gently as he could, Edge pressed a kiss in the middle of Rus’s forehead, one singular, tender touch. 

Then he let Rus go.

“You’re welcome,” Edge said, simply. 

Rus blinked, offering a last, faltering smile. “see ya, edgelord.”

Blue’s speculative look lingered longer, but in the end, he stepped back, too. “You told me to start with I’m sorry.” A faint, sad smile, “I’m sorry, Edge.”

For what he'd said and done? For taking Rus away from him? Edge only nodded again, and with a quiet click of the door they were gone.

“that’s it, huh. gonna let him go back there and settle into the status quo?”

Edge turned to look at his brother, taking in his disgruntled expression. But he was tired, far more than could be explained by a mere lack of sleep. 

“He needs it.”

“uh huh,” Red didn’t argue, but there was a certain anger in his gaze. “and the fuckers who hurt him?”

“Blue said it’s being handled.”

“handled. hand-dulled.” Red drew out the word, let weight settle into it. “that good enough for you?”

“I promised Rus I wouldn’t take revenge for him, and that will need to be good enough for us both,” Edge said warningly. “I trust you understand the weight of a promise?”

Red held up both hands, but his display of innocence was mocking. “i hear you loud and clear, boss.”

“Of course you do.” Edge stepped abruptly over to the door mat, reaching for his boots. Despite his weariness, he had a sudden longing for the feel of the crisp, cold air outside. “I’m going to check the guard line and the outer traps.”

“sounds good,” Red sucked on his teeth loudly. “want company?”

No. Yes. “If you can keep your mouth shut.”

Red’s grin widened and he made a little ‘x’ over his soul with one finger. “cross my soul and hope to dust.”

Despite his mocking, Red kept his promise and never said a word.

* * *

It wasn’t until two weeks later on a movie night that Edge saw Rus again. In between, Edge resisted the urge to go to Underswap, to stand guard, watching over their tidy little house where the door was rarely locked. He settled for the occasional text, getting a curt reply of ‘fine’ to any inquiry as to how Rus was feeling. 

Eventually, Edge stopped asking and Rus never texted him first.

That was all right. It was. The point was always to allow Rus to make his own choices. 

He ignored the faint ache in his soul that demanded more.

But to have his first sight of Underswap after stepping out of the basement door to be of Rus leaning lazily against the back of the house, exhaling a cloud of smoke, sent the fading ache in Edge’s soul to low, dull throb.

“Must you do that where others walk?” Edge snapped. It slipped out without thought, far too easy to fall back into old habits. Trying too hard to ignore that Rus looked good, the flush of magic was back in his bones, the pale vulnerability when Edge saw him last was gone, swallowed up in a familiar smirk.

Except Rus’s grin was more rueful than anything and shook his head, “sorry, edgelord. it’s good to see you, too.”

The quiet sincerity to those teasing words left Edge bewildered, fading to shock when Rus put the cigarette out only half-smoked, dropping the butt into a nearby can.

“c’mon inside, blue’s been cooking all damn day.” His grin took on an exasperated fondness. Rus learned in too close and Edge lurched unsteadily as he was jostled with teasing elbow jab. “think it’s your turn to pick a flick, what travesty are you going to inflict on us this time?”

He’d planned on Casablanca. He couldn’t fathom why he blurted out, “Ghostbusters.”

“really?” Rus paused, ankle deep in the snow as he blinked at Edge in confused pleasure. ”didn’t think you liked that one.”

“I don’t.” 

“but…oh.” That smile widened, flirting with genuine softness. “thanks.”

Edge didn’t reply, made no indication that he’d chosen it with Rus in mind. They stood unspeaking in the cold snow for a long moment, that smile playing on Rus’s mouth. Then Rus’s eyes flicked to Red, and color touched his cheekbones as he turned towards the house. 

The rising glee on Red’s face was ignored as Edge followed Rus into the house and he forcibly did not think about the last time he was here, when he discovered the spatters of marrow on the ground. 

Instead, he greeted Blue with guarded warmth, accepted a plate of food that tasted better than it looked. He listened as the others joked and chatted. But his gaze strayed often, to Rus whenever he laughed or teased, and when their eye lights met, Edge didn’t look away.

When they all went to the living room to watch the movie, there was an empty space on the sofa next to Rus and when no one else took it, Edge did.

The movie was as ridiculous as Edge remembered. It didn’t matter; his attention was on Rus sitting next to him. Close enough to touch, brushing lightly at the hips and femurs, elbows occasionally jostling as one of them reached for popcorn. 

Someone on the screen was rambling about twinkies when Rus’s hand settled gingerly over his, cool bones greasy with butter tentatively twining with his own scarred fingers, and Edge inhaled shakily, let it out. No one else seemed to notice them holding hands. Nothing more than that, only that single light touch, but Edge was prepared for a glacially slow courtship if that was what it took.

They needed to talk, perhaps tonight. Perhaps they would go to Rus’s room after the movie, and words would spill out between them, emotions bubbled out as they said things that needed said and more. There were many things Edge suspected he could whisper to Rus in the early morning hours. The lingering ache of Edge’s soul shifted, fluttering with warmth. He rubbed his thumb across Rus's knuckles and his fingers twitched in response, then tightened, holding on. 

It was a start.

* * *

You can stop here, dear readers. If you’ve made peace with what happened, like Rus. Or if you’ve made a promise, like Edge, to not seek revenge. If you’re content with the beginnings of love. 

Or you can read on and see a different end. The choice, dear readers, is yours.

* * *

_Epilogue_

The bruises still ached as he shambled through his front door, kicking aside the trash that was piled around. The heat made those bruises throb, but there was no escaping it in fucking Hotland, was there. The little blue shit had left his mark, shrieking about his cunt brother, as if that slut were worth it.

Sans’d left him on the ground, bleeding from half a dozen cuts and scrapes. Nothing unbearable and if he’d left it at that, he would have accepted it as the price of business. Yeah, that was it, Sans needed payback for damage to his property, that was all. Only he’d dragged Alphys into it, and now he was starting to think he might have to take a little vacation, get out of Hotland for a while. 

He didn’t notice anything strange in the house; his thoughts were tangled up around a stupid cunt who’d spent years teasing, flirting just out of reach and then when the chance finally came, refusing to put out. On the stuttering bitch that was on his ass, demanding answers that she didn’t need. On how much he needed to pack and where he should go from here. 

His poisoned soul knew, whispered that maybe he should pay the cunt a visit. Tempted by the memory of his fear, of his pleas, the spatter of crimson on his clothes. Yeah, maybe a visit would be nice, might be his only chance before the bitch captain went to someone more royal for a ruling and if he was going down, that cunt was going with him—

The whispers of his soul went silent at the sudden heavy pressure surrounding it, yanking him to his knees. He cried out in pain, landing with jarring force, unable to move away from that sharp, blue force.

A scuffing sound made his head jerk up, squinting into the darkness. His own fear tasted sour, thick in his throat at what he saw. Two crimson lights like tiny lanterns, a shade darker than blood, gleaming out at him.

_What is that, what, what, what is here, what is that._

There was a low, harsh laugh, a voice choked in gravel that spoke from the darkness, “wellie, well, well. i heard you like to play games. how’s about you play a little game with me.”

“Who are you?” he asked, shrilly. The voice in his head was that of his own father, cruel bastard that he was, screaming at him to get out, to get away, but he couldn’t. That blue hold was inescapable, and he felt the first insectoid tickle on his spine, of his sins crawling up his back. This couldn’t be Alphys’s doing, it couldn’t, so who—

“oh, i got lotsa names. only one that a fella like you needs to know,” A soft footstep, another, and beneath those twin glowing crimson eyes came into focus the outline of jagged teeth, curved into a vicious smile. That voice deepened, heavy with the weight of dark mysteries as it whispered to him, “ _I am Judgement_.”

That subvocal growl sent a tremor through his very soul; this was no Monster, this was a demon glaring out at him from the void. Dimly, he felt his bladder let go, the sharp scent of urine filling the air.

“speakin’ about names, i need a coupla ones from you.” That terrible grin widened, those eyes, ah, those _eyes_ , yawning pits of hellfire, danced with glee. “but first, let’s play a game, yeah?”

That demon crouched in front of him, petting his head playfully with sharp fingertips that left bleeding scratches behind them. He leaned in close and whispered, like a secret. “let’s see how many times i can get you to say stop.”

-finis-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end. If you didn't precisely enjoy this story, I hope it made you feel, made you think. Thank you so much for reading. ^_^


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